Even Potion Masters Get the Cold
by mortianna
Summary: Chapter 4 of 4 up! Professors Potter and Snape give Professor Lupin a good run for his money:-) Is this really working?
1. Set

Ahem. Beware: This is autobiographical, and Severus is really a Mary Sue, or would that be Marty Sue? Whatever: this silly piece was written in the beginnings and the aftermath of a very bad cold. Well, blame it on mame, babe:-)

Rating: R?

Romance/Humour

Pairing: SS/HP

I'm waiting for the money to roll in, but unfortunately it doesn't, so I can't be J.K. Rowling, and that is perhaps just as good. I, like so many others, just like to take her brilliant creatures and play with them and don't hurt them – much. 

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Even Potions Masters get the Cold

__

Please please me

Oh yeah, like I please you

(As always: Lennon/McCartney)

"See me later, Potter".

The voice of the Potions master was dark and very nasal as he left the great hall in his usual mode. Feet never really touching the ground, cloak billowing, hair wafting behind. Never a look back, but staring each and everyone down who had the cheek to look at him and catch his dark gaze on the way out. 

Other than usual was only the loud explosion of millions of bacilli stemming from a sneeze that shook the whole slim frame of the retreating figure. Eyes closed and opened again a little watery, and a hand with slender fingers put a large handkerchief to the astonishing if slightly reddened and swollen nose. The blowing sounded as if from one of the larger and more dangerous beasts Hagrid took care of.

Nobody dared say "Bless you!" in the light of the still glaring eyes. Not that anybody wished to.

Silence fell and the room was emptier and fuller of air when the dark figure had left. "How on earth did he catch a cold?", the voice of Madam Hooch was clearly discernible in the silent room. "It's not as if he went out into the air too often." 

"Well, you know, these dungeons are none too cosy", said Sybil Trelawney, eagerly blinking. "I try to tell him all the time that he is not as young as he used to be and really should take more care of himself. Wouldn't harm to bring some female warmth into the bleak corners of his life, now would it?" 

Madam Hooch snorted unbelievingly. "Come on, Sybil. Female warmth? You must be kidding. Besides, he is used to the bleakness of the place. Wouldn't have it otherwise. That can't be the reason for his cold." 

"No", agreed Professor Flitwick. "But he really should do something about it before the children come back. Won't do to have a teacher with a cold. It's a disgrace for a wizard".

"A potions teacher at that", said Sinistra and giggled.

They all laughed until the deep roar of the voice of the resident half giant made itself heard clearly about the human or ghostly ones. "Let the poor fellow be. He is human after all, isn't he?" There was no reply to that one and the staff returned to quieter talk about other and more agreeable subjects.

"Now, what was that all about?" Remus Lupin shook his head unbelievingly and looked at his fellow teacher Harry Potter. The Boy Who Lived and Came Back to Hogwarts shrugged his shoulders with a sheepish grin. "I don't know, Remus, I'll be damned if I know".

The banter between the Potions teacher and the new Muggles Studies teacher and first regular Quidditch Coach had been as usual. Insults spoken in the soft if a little raspier than normal voice. Insults against Harry's intelligence, upbringing, learning, teaching, etc. Not to forget his parents, his godfather, and the hero worshipping Harry enjoyed everywhere he went. Only in Snape's eyes, of course. Nothing new here. Harry could have repeated the things in his sleep. And he could have acted like he did even in his sleepless nights. Giving cool and impassive answers. Not interested in anything Snape might say. Standing up to Snape but not raising his voice.

It was a remarkable accomplishment for someone so young. And it seemed to vex Severus to no end. Remus Lupin grinned. High time Harry had learned that. It did him loads of good. The boy had really grown up. Not only on the outside which was quite pleasant to look at. Well, it had always been, hadn't it? Now only a little taller, broader and more mature. The green eyes were the same, as was the unruly black hair. But then again, the eyes had always been too old for someone so young. Still were. And he seemed to have found an equilibrium of mind that helped him to take the insults his former teacher insisted on heaping upon him with a calm that was to be admired. Not by Severus, of course.

Remus was still grinning. He quite liked the entertainment here at Hogwarts. He had had so little of that for most of his life. Being a Werewolf was no fun, despite of what other people might think. 

The boy, no the young man, got up now. "I'm going. I have to prepare my lesson."

"On a Saturday?" Albus Dumbledore, the revered headmaster, had a twinkle in his eyes, when Harry looked at him with this peculiar earnestness in the flashing green eyes. Remus Lupin felt something like curiosity well up. That was interesting. Harry was up to something. He looked like butter wouldn't melt in his mouth and that was not right. He looked on when Harry answered in this same severity: "Yes. As I am new to teaching as such I want to do it all the right way." He didn't blink.

Albus did. A little. "Good boy", was all he said, and waved his hand in a gesture of leave-giving. 

His and Remus' eyes locked when Harry Potter left the room and both men grinned. "Let him do what he must", said the headmaster. And as everyone knew he was a wise wizard and very very old, Remus left it at that.

But curious he was still.


	2. Aim

I have been reading a lot lately and stumbled upon some stories I had forgotten that I ever read. I felt quite miserable, that everything has been said and done before, but nonetheless ... I decided to endeavour to rise above it:-)

But I also realized how much I owe to Jade 1x2 and her fabulous Harry and Snape stories, and that I haven't given her due credit before. I do so now, most humbly. 

http://www.fanfiction.net/profile.php?userid=172638, most of her work is here, but there is a new story on the fest, which is wonderful too.

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Harry knocked on the door of the private rooms of Snape. His heart pounded and not from running. Had he got that right? Did Snape want him to come here? He could not be sure. The man was such an enigma. But he would learn soon enough. If he had been mistaken, he would have his tail off in a trice. Well, if the wards didn't kill him first. Severus Snape knew some spectacularly vicious spells to secure his privacy.

But apparently he had got the gist of the intentions of the Potions teacher. The wards gave a sigh when he pressed his hand to the door and opened without another sound. Harry looked perplexed. This was very un-Snapish. 

He entered the rooms and was greeted by another loud and painful sounding sneeze. Harry looked around. The professor was nowhere to be seen. Not in front of his endless bookshelves, a favourite pose of his. Nor in one of the chairs circling a small table where he had guests for tea - if he had guests. Nor at the imposing desk where he worked.

That left not too many possibilities. A very naughty smile crossed the face of Harry Potter. He followed the sound of the nose blowing. It was not to be missed.

When he crossed the threshold to the bed room he was greeted by the dark eyes flashing angrily at him. The black was as black as always, if glazing a little feverishly, but the white was slightly red. As was the nose – red and raw from the blowing. Imposing, nevertheless. The lips were tightly pressed together, if in anger, as usual, or to hold back another fit of sneezing or coughing, Harry couldn't tell. 

Severus Snape was wearing a night shirt in the green of his house, a colour that didn't much flatter his complexion at the best of times. His sallow skin now reflected the green of the shirt, with red spots on the top of his cheeks.

Harry felt a grin tug at the corner of his mouth, and another feeling in another part of his body. He walked over to the bed, not put off by glaring alone. He was quite used to that by now.

"Poor baby", he said, sitting down on the bed, "such a bad cold you got".

The black eyes narrowed menacingly. "And whose fault is that, pray tell?" A pathetic cough escaped the green-clad chest. 

Harry heaved his shoulders in a mixture of sympathy and disgust. That really sounded awful. "Mine", he said, in a strange singsong. "Mine, mine, and always mine". 

The thin mouth curled and set anew, the lips suddenly looking much softer and broader than before. The words lush and luscious came to Harry's mind unwanted. He cleared his throat and licked his lips. As was to be suspected, the black eyes did not miss one bit of this display. The lips opened. "Yes", the low, soft, if a little rough voice said with relish. "And don't you dare forget that."

Harry shrugged his shoulders again and made a show of rolling his eyes in exasperation. "How could I? You're shoving it into my face at every opportunity."

All four eyes blinked a bit, then two resumed staring coldly, two looking innocently. Two throats moved hastily, if inconspicuously. The air was dry in the dungeons, after all.

"I'm just trying to teach you the concept of responsibility, Potter. Belatedly, as I have to admit, but better late than never, as that Muggle saying goes."

Harry snorted. "Aren't you fed up with teaching me, after all? Hadn't had enough of that already?" He tried to make his best poker face and failed rather ridiculously at it. A smile tug at his mouth stronger then before.

One corner of the other man's mouth went up. "Even my personality, strong as it is, Mr. Potter, seems to have succumbed at last to the daily ordeal I have taken upon me. I seem to have become a teacher at heart, much to my chagrin."

Harry shifted on the bed rather uncomfortably. The sight of the man and his voice did nothing to make sitting in his presence any easier. "You seem to have acquired quite a knowledge of all things Muggle, it seems to me. How come?"

A ghost of a smile in the face before him. A sneer, more likely. "There's this new teacher, you see? Blackmailed me into listening to many things about Muggles."

Harry grinned. "Blackmailed you? How on earth did he do that?"

A deathly glare, only slightly disturbed by a fit of spraying coughs. "I'm sorry. But if you hadn't come here to bother me in the first place, you wouldn't have got that on you. And don't ask me about that piece of blackmail. It's much too dark a secret to reveal to anyone."

Harry's grin grew broader still. "Even to me?"

The glare flared up. "Especially to you, Professor Potter. And as you are here, after all, pestering me with your insolently healthy presence, perhaps you would be so kind as to help make up for some of the predicaments you brought onto me. Otherwise – bugger off."

Harry gulped. The man had a way with words. Well, the tone helped, too. It lulled you in, until you were nearly drowning in the sweet satiny waves, and then gave you the hard punch into the stomach. Inevitably.

"Of course I'm here to help", he said in a neutral tone.

The man could snigger despite his condition. "Surely the whole of the staff sent you to help me? Please, Mr. Potter, don't insult my intelligence."

"Would never dream of it, Professor." Harry stood up and went over to the bathroom. "By the way: Call me Harry or Professor Potter, will you? You called me Potter during my years as a student here, and even if this is hard news to you, I am a teacher now. Just as you are."

Being on the threshold to the bathroom, Harry couldn't really understand the mumbling that followed that announcement. It was not needed. He could think of some things Snape might have said.

He entered the bathroom and looked for a piece of cloth and a glass. He found both and used the tap to fill the glass and wet the towel. He re-entered the bedroom under the extremely suspicious eyes of Severus Snape, sitting upright in his bed and looking as if he was about to fly away.

"No way", Harry said warningly. "We have an agreement. No wizard's ways for the weekend."

Snape fell back onto the bed. "I must have been completely mad when I agreed to that idiotic premise", he muttered venomously. "What an utterly silly, brain staggering … Potter idea."

"Thank you, Sir", Harry said cheerily and wrung the cloth. "Your idea, as I recall it, was of course completely sane and well thought out and all that. But you lost, unfortunately."

A groan. A deep heartfelt groan or so it sounded. "Don't remind me of that, Potter. I'm sick. Don't I at least deserve some quiet and peace if not sympathy?"

Jesus, the man could look miserable, if he set his heart on doing so. Harry touched his forehead to feel the temperature. Just like Aunt Petunia had done in his childhood with her uncaring hands. Well, a little softer. He didn't hate Severus, after all, not like Aunt Petunia had hated him, even if he had found out only recently. 

He couldn't discern if the man had a fever or not. And he was sure, Aunt Petunia couldn't feel that either. But it sure felt professional, pretending to do so. The more so when the poor bugger to whom he pretended he could do it, had not the faintest idea of what he was doing and looked at him as if he was willing to bite his nose off, if only he felt like he could. And Severus Snape was a man of his word. He had lost and now he had to endure whatever Harry was to do to him. Had to stand ministrations he had never had forced onto him in his whole life. Not like Harry, who had survived his childhood in that dismal Muggle family, who only touched him to hurt him. 

Harry had a very nasty grin on his face. Now was the time to have his revenge. Revenge on the teacher who had made his teenage life a misery with the methods of the Muggles who had made his childhood life a misery. What a very Slytherin way to act. He was sure Professor Snape would appreciate it, under different circumstances. As it was, Harry was not about to tell him of his train of thoughts. Torture under the pretence to do him good, to heal him, which was enough for his Gryffindor conscience. Yes. He was grown up now, he could choose from different things to do.

He chose to let his fingers linger a little longer on the forehead in question. Pale, hot and a little sweaty. He refrained from stroking back the damp hair. No need for that just now.

He took the cloth he had taken from the bathroom and put it onto the forehead. The black eyes sparked menace. "What do you think you are doing there, Potter?" It seemed to be not the time for Professor, nor the situation for Harry. Or the other way round. Harry smiled wryly. "Taking care of you, Professor, what else would I be doing?" He could do innocent after all, he was still only just about 20. And his eyes could be as big and green as with 11.

Not that they ever could fool the black eyes that narrowed in front. "Indeed, what else would you be doing? What's that revolting cloth for? It's wet and cold. Surely not even Muggles could be so dumb as to believe it could do any good to feel something so disgusting, when you're feeling bad enough already?"

Harry grinned. "Always the believer, are you not? It's supposed to bring down the fever." He pushed the cloth and the forehead underneath a little harder. The dark eyes glittered viciously but the mouth stayed shut. Something to be proud of.

Harry fumbled in his pockets for something that had cost him quite a time to get. No Berty Botts beans, that would have been much easier. He opened the lid of the little tin and plopped one tablet into the water glass. It began bubbling and the haughty profile looked extremely suspicious. "And what's that, Potter? Will you push that down my nose to make it de-swell?"

Harry chuckled. "Good idea, Prof, we'll leave that for next time, if nothing else works. No, this one is for drinking. Here". And with that Harry shoved the glass under the organ in question, which sniffed in disgust. It was remarkable at that too.

"You must be completely mad, Mr. Potter, if you think that I take anything that a dismal potions maker such as you has wreaked havoc in doing. Never in my life would I consider taking anything that has not been made by my one hands."

Harry looked taken aback, but only a little. "Including coffee? Excuse me Sir, but you are the worst coffee maker I ever encountered."

Professor Severus Snape looked down his nose at the insolent brat that was now a fellow colleague. "And you have plenty of experience with coffee makers, haven't you, Professor Potter?"

Harry blushed just a bit but held eye contact. "Only a little. But don't divert, take this. It hasn't been made by me, if that helps, but by some muggle factory that put all its knowledge into it. It is taken regularly by all the Muggles and nobody has died of it yet. Well, nearly nobody."

The black eyes looked at him without a motion. "Well, that is of course something completely different." The thin lips opened and a tongue was visible. Harry gulped and put the glass to Snape's lips. The other man swallowed obligingly. Harry let his eyes not pop out at the sight of the moving throat. No, he wouldn't.

Severus Snape rested his head back on the cushion and Harry put the glass on the night stand. Both men looked at each other expectantly. 

"Well, now", the voice of the Potions master sounded as impatient as he looked. "Is that supposed to work in this life or after, pray tell?"

Harry snorted and looked flabbergasted at that. Since when had he taken to snorting? He shook his head in wonder and answered. "Well, Muggles are Muggles and not wizards for a reason. It will take some time before you feel a distinct change."

The black eyes glared. "Well, thanks for that, Potter. I am quite grateful that I am a wizard, or will be again, after this weekend is over, at least."

Harry smiled. "Now that is something, is it not? Professor Severus Snape is grateful for anything, we should call Rita Skeeter for an interview. 'Famous former death eater is grateful to be a wizard after all. Not especially known formerly for his gratefulness about anything, the hook-nosed Potions Professor at Hogwarts and bearer of the Order of Merlin Second class confessed to our reporter that after catching a cold in Muggle London and losing a bet to fellow teacher and former boy who lived Harry Potter, who subjected him to famous torture methods of the Muggle world to heal his former teacher, …'"

"That is quite enough, Potter", the nasal voice interrupted Harry before he could really warm to the idea. "Thank you very much for making my life even more miserable than it was before."

"You're quite welcome, Sir", said Harry and grinned.

The dark eyes narrowed menacingly. "I know that by now, but thank you all the same, Potter. I trust you couldn't and wouldn't refrain from mentioning your famous past, would you? I knew your modesty was nothing but fake. Plus: Contrary to popular opinion, my nose is not hooked."

Harry smiled and looked fondly at the organ in question. "Beg your pardon, Sire, I was talking in the voice of Rita Skeeter, not my own. Certainly she would peg me with that old infamous saying. And of course your nose is not hooked. It is hawk-like, and imposing, royal even, and quite nice. Other than that, I have often thought that you would make a wonderful Captain Hook."

The black eyes blinked irritatedly. "And who would that be? No, don't answer, please. I have enough of old Muggles in my head already, thanks to you."

Harry smiled and thought about the connotations this answer was given in his young head and body. He looked anxiously for signs of healing in his fellow teacher. Surely there must be something? Severus hadn't sneezed for at least …

"Harrumph", a giant snort ended his train of thought. "Bless you", Harry said automatically. If he had learned anything at all in the Dursley family, it was what they considered courtesy. Well, in him, at least.

After a nose blowing that seemed to take for eternity and bring down lots of fluids that rightfully belonged to the brain and made that going, the black eyes glimmered as menacingly as ever before. "Bless me? What idiotic saying should that be? I am not to be blessed under any occasion, is that understood? I am far beyond that. And do you have any idea what to do while we wait for this completely idiotic medicine of yours to work? Presumed that it does work at all? "

Well, Harry had, of course. Lots of ideas. "That depends if you feel cold or hot, just now, if your nose fluids flow freely – oh yes, they do, don't they? So that leaves inhalation out – and all that. Just tell me how you feel. Other than completely miffed, of course."

The eyebrow went up. The famous eyebrow, jet black and able to say much more than other people could with their mouth in a whole lifetime. In just one simple movement. "Miffed, Potter? That doesn't pin it in the least. I'm utterly exhausted and not a little frantic, yes, you could even say, I'm near to fuming. Does that answer your question?"

"As to your temperature, yes", Harry said coolly, under the circumstances. "Well that leaves warming you with extra-blankets or my young hot body out of the picture, does it not?" The eyebrow staid where it was and the mouth kept shut. Harry went on. "Well, that leaves cooling the body as well as the forehead. Bringing the fever out and down, you see. There are different methods, as I recall them. I could put a cold wet linen blanket, covered with a woollen one, around your legs. Or your torso, that would be even more effective." 

Harry had just touched the areas in question slightly when the black eyes narrowed with something that could have been horror and a hand tossed away the coverings completely. "You must be completely out of your mind, Potter, even more than is usual even for you, when you even consider doing something like that to me. I have it that your name is right, after all: You harry me alright, but none of that just now."


	3. Match

Some dirty talk and some good old hoppahoppa, you know (expression courtesy of Aello:-)

I'd like to express my sincere apologies to any housewives out there. It is not that I think so lowly of them. Unfortunately, Harry and Severus have their own minds, god bless them:-)

*****************

Severus Snape pulled his wand. "Enough of these Muggle antics already, Mr. Potter. I am not impressed."

Harry looked at him. The nose was red and swollen, the eyes looked feverishly, the voice was thick and on the verge of breaking under a new attack of violent sneezing. He shrugged his shoulders helplessly. He knew when it was time to admit defeat with this man. Never. 

"If you are that impatient, I can't help it. I thought you were the master of patience. Obviously I was wrong, at last where you yourself are concerned."

A deadly stare. "Nice try, Professor Potter. But there are other important things I should be doing instead of amusing myself with watching you play the perfect Muggle housewife."

Harry swallowed and took a good look at Snape's wand. Could he get it and hex the man? Quickly? A look in the eyes of the man thwarted that idea. After looking into them he was under no illusion as to Snape not being at the height of his considerable powers. And Harry was anything but a fool. Foolhardy, yes, but not a fool. Taking Snape's wand would be a foolproof way of getting hit very hard with something quite disagreeable, if only the wounding tongue. 

Harry decided to not show his hurt feelings. That had always been best with Snape. Safe. Well, safer. "Such as?", he asked and couldn't help swallowing again. He was not a student anymore, and it didn't do to hurt like a child.

The dark eyes narrowed menacingly and long slender fingers grabbed a vial from the bedside table. The fingers opened, the mouth opened, and the throat swallowed. The vial was carefully replaced. 

The dark eyes flashed. The red in them was gone, the fever as well, as was the swelling of the nose. When he started to talk, it was evident that the voice was back to silken softness as well. Potions master, all right, Harry thought. It had been a ridiculous idea. 

"Such as", the voice was really back at its best, "watching you being the perfect Wizard lover. And experiencing it." Snape's long arms came out of under the duvet and strong fingers grabbed Harry around the shoulders and pulled him into the other man.

"Oh, that", Harry managed to say meekly, taking in the smell of Snape. That potion really was wondrous, he smelled as sweet and interesting as ever, no trace left of the slightly sour smell of sickness. His skin was smooth and soft under the shirt, the wet shine on the face gone.

Well, for now. Harry grinned smugly. As far as he was concerned, he would do his best to make the man sweat again. Couldn't do any harm to mix Muggle methods with Wizard ones. 

The imperious nose was lifted, and Snape looked down along it at his former student who had to remind himself again that he was now a colleague. "Yes, that", the voice said with some conviction and the arms around Harry's shoulders pulled him even closer. "I find you quite talented in that area. More talented, I have to admit than I ever thought you capable of, after your dismal attempts at school work". The voice caressed Harry's ear, invoking all kinds of interesting reactions in him.

"Well, that's something, isn't it?", Harry murmured into the strands of black hair that tickled his nose. "If I fail as a teacher, I can always sell my arse to the public. Arse of the boy who lived, put to the proof by Professor Snape, don't you think that would be something to advertise?"

The arms clamped around him for a second, and Harry couldn't help grinning. "Undoubtedly", the voice showed nothing, "but I think that will not be necessary."

Harry managed to get his head up from where it felt quite comfortable to look into the dark eyes. "Why? Did you change your opinion about my teaching methods?"

An impatient snort. "I have no opinion about your teaching methods, Professor Potter. I refrain from that until you are utterly settled, which no doubt will be some time in the next decade or so. Albus Dumbledore is a patient man."

Harry felt a rush into his cheeks, one that he wasn't especially fond of. It was not good for a teacher who was barely older than his oldest students to blush like that. Much less appropriate in the bed of his formerly most hated teacher. Fuck!

"The headmaster would no doubt be pleased to hear of your belief in him", Harry said in an attempt at dryness. "Then is this why you don't think I will have to sell my arse to the public, because of the unfaltering patience of the headmaster?"

Another irritated snort, directly at Harry's ear. "Yes, Mr. Potter, that and my conviction that we will find something else for you to do before we let you have to fall onto such desperate means." Soft lips were at Harry's ear, he could feel them, even if they just not touched him. Yet. 

He chuckled and moved a little more into the embrace. "We, Professor? Who is that we, now? The school, the staff, you and Dumbledore?"

He felt the lips at his earlobe alright, lips and teeth. He shivered with anticipation. But that irritating man didn't bite. Not quite yet. Harry shivered with disappointment. The warm breath of Snape caressed his attentive ear again, and he could stop himself from sighing contentedly and cuddling even more only at the last possible moment. Would not do to give in that easily. The bastard was much to self-assured as it was.

The sweet hot breath became voice. "Meaning you and I, Potter. It is not necessary for you to play the fool even more than you are already." Irritated, the voice was, but Harry didn't mind. Not one bit. He put his hand on the shoulder of the other man, just so that his fingertips could caress the enticingly soft flesh of the neck above the night shirt. Could and would.

"You and I, Professor Snape? What on earth would you mean by such a strange combination of words?" Harry tried to make his voice as flat and vague as he could, but was not so sure if it worked.

It did. The teeth clamped on his earlobe. Harry screamed. And heard a self-satisfied chuckle. Then the voice rose in his tormented ear. "I will not fall back on calling you a brat, Professor, however hard you try to make me do just that." "Oh?", Harry asked, nuzzling his nose into the crook of Snape's shoulder and neck, and sniffing contentedly.

"No, I will not. You are a grown up now, and should be treated like one. There may be exceptions to the rule, if necessary". The Potions master winced and wiggled when Harry put his lips and a little tongue to the crook of his neck. 

"Oh may there?", Harry muttered into the soft skin and firm flesh which he had succeeded in making wet again. "But you seem not to be on the height of your powers, Snape. Must be the cold, I think. How else would it be that you haven't yet answered the question?" Harry worried the soft flesh some more.

The lips of the Potions teacher opened and formed a word, silently. Harry felt like grinning. Very very much. Well, until the breath and the lips and the teeth were at his ear again. Then he felt like weeping, or wincing, or crawling into the other man. 

"Which part exactly of your never ending stream of babbling do you reckon to deserve an answer?" The lips were brushing along Harry's jaw line, softly and slowly, nipping at his chin, and moving upwards. This only diverted Professor Potter a little bit, he knew that it was meant exactly to do that – to divert him from pressing the question, so that Snape could all the better make fun of him afterwards. For failing desperately, once again. 

But he wouldn't. He resisted the urge to let his lips quiver and moan in longing for the touch of those of the other man and made them form his breath into words. "The question, Professor Snape, that you do just anything not to answer. The one relating to my selling my arse to the public if I fail at teaching. What exactly did you mean by 'us' finding another way?"

Severus Snape snorted. It didn't sound as if brought on by his cold. Long slender fingers ruffled the dark unruly hair that always seemed to fall into the forehead of the younger professor. "Obstinate little bugger, aren't we, Potter?"

Harry couldn't help shuffling his head into the strong hands. "I rather got the impression that you liked persistence in me. And as far as buggering is concerned, argh". The lips of Professor Snape had found their goal at last. They captured the other pair of soft rosy flesh and drove all coherent thought out of Harry. He didn't mind. He had gotten more of an answer already than he could have hoped for. 

He let his lips do the talking, lips and tongue. They seemed to be quite fond of this kind of talk. He let his fingers explore the head of the other man, something they didn't seem to tire of. His forefinger seemed to be especially attracted by the crease between the brows, the one which made Snape look so forbidding and stern. Harry had found out to his surprise that he was rather fond of it. He let his fingers caress and felt the Potions master sigh into his mouth. Then he pulled away a little, the lips leaving each other with an effort. 

"Professor Potter, I find myself at some disadvantage, surely due to my health condition. Some weak spot undoubtedly brought on by it, forces me to assure you that you will never need to sell your arse to the public, as you so articulately put it, as long as I live. Now that you have convinced me of your qualities in care taking, there will always be a place for you on the rug in front of my bed."

Harry had to smile despite himself. "I am impressed. Can you afford me being your nurse?"

Snape snorted again. "Loath though I am to admit it, the Snape family fortune is no small one. I can't bring it down to nothing on myself. I really need a young and reckless person to do that."

"Splendid", said Harry, who was not about to tell the man just now that he had a small fortune of his own, what with what his parents had left him and the two years with the Chudley Cannons. "So you would take me as a Muggle housewife, if my teaching got so abysmal even Dumbledore couldn't take it any longer." He looked at the man beneath him who nodded with a very self-important smile on his face. 

"And what about my arse? I think that was what started this conversation?" Harry closed his eyes when Severus reacted in the exact same way he had hoped he would. Those strong hands grabbed his buttocks and pressed Harry into Snape's groin. 

"Don't worry about that, Potter", the Potions master growled. "Trust me to see to that, too". From the feeling Harry got, he tended to believe him. "Oh, okay", he gasped, "it was always my goal in life to be a housewife and a whore."

The fingers in his lower back hurt. "Language! Watch your words", Snape snarled and his nails dug into Harry's bottom cheeks. Harry bit into the soft flesh of the enticing neck. "Why?", he muttered, "that's what you meant, wasn't it? Plus, you can't tell me to watch my language. I'm not a student any more." 

"So much the worse", was the immediate answer. "As a teacher you have to be a role model." "Here?", Harry couldn't stop himself asking and looked around as if watching out for students in the bedroom. 

A slap to his butt was the answer to this. "Always, Potter, always." The slap was alleviated by a heated kiss, which made Harry dizzy and melt into the body under him. "You have most interesting ways to press your point", he admitted, a little breathlessly.

A chuckle. "Thank you, Potter. I really appreciate your approval of my teaching methods. Feel free to take notes." Harry snorted. The man was just too much.

They kissed a little more but Harry felt he couldn't just let that go. He had some problems with his being younger, and new at teaching, and with Snape being his – whatever. He didn't need to be reminded of his position as being quite close to the feminine one of old, in the Muggle world at that. Ron would have an aneurysm if he heard that. Not that he ever would.

But before he could speak, the other man did. No, he couldn't read his mind, Harry knew that much. But he was quite good at acting like he did. "Harry", and Harry shivered at the sound of his first name in that dark whiskey voice, whispering in his ear. "Don't be ridiculous. I know that you are not for sale. I would, of course, buy you if it saved your neck or your self-esteem or whatever. But it will not be necessary, I'm sure. You'll do fine. And much as I don't know why you give your arse to me, freely, I won't need to pay for it to save it. Understood?"

"It comes with the package". Harry smiled through the sudden fogginess in his eyes. "Muggle housewives come with their arse and all, three or more women in one." 

Snape shivered. "Merlin, save me. No, you Professor Potter, will be a teacher, some day, and we will devote our time together to the mutual exploration of our respective arses. I've got no use for a cook, a nurse, or something like that. There are the house elves, and there are potions …"

"And you, Professor Snape, are a bit too chatty, today. Must be the vitamins or something. Muggle healing devices don't seem to agree with your esteemed wizardly system." 

Harry smiled fondly but not giving in to the urge to become very sentimental indeed. The other man had come down to nearly make a lasting commitment, it wouldn't do to become all soppy about it. That would be a dreadful moment, indeed, Harry Potter crying with joy and Severus Snape glaring and scowling at his worst. Well, perhaps not too bad. But he wouldn't risk Severus running off and never look back. He was quite sure the man was capable of that. He had been a death eater and a spy, but Harry had never met anyone who was as afraid of feelings as the other man. Well, perhaps other than he himself.

He leant into Severus and kissed him fondly, nearly reverently on the mouth. "I have the feeling", the voice of the Potions master was a little rough after the kiss, but audible, "that you meant to express something with your latest statement, Professor. Whatever might that be?"

Harry snuggled one of his hands in between the two groins rubbing at each other without the knowledge of their owners. His hand touched and pressed and held onto the thing it had found. His hand seemed to quite like it, the thing was so hard, and strong, and soft to the touch. And his ears quite liked the reaction of the other man. 

"Always so subtle, Potter", Severus Snape ground out after an incomprehensible hiss. 

Harry pressed once more. "Well, I have to be, have I not? When you miss your cue?" One finger trailed along his cleft and Harry was hard pressed to wiggle into it. He didn't. Just about. "I never miss my cue", the velvet voice growled. "I thought you were more interested in talking about Muggle devices and their effects on wizards". 

The finger was busy and Harry had a feeling that his clothes were not needed any longer. It was warm enough here, even a little hot. He didn't need anything against the cold of the dungeons, well nothing besides one thing. And thing was not the right expression exactly, but he'd be damned if he minced words now with his aching crotch and his arse being treated like that. 

Which meant Severus had won again, after all. Harry sighed. "Am not", were the only words he managed to utter while that finger tickled relentlessly. He felt a triumphant chuckle and then the Potions master moved and grabbed something and muttered something under his breath and the next moment Harry felt their bodies press against each other in glorious nakedness and it felt just so gorgeous and when Severus took to the task of exploring his arse in earnest all he could do was moan in approval and do the same to him. But that was quite a bit later, and they ended up all wet and exhausted which couldn't be too good for their health condition but none of them really minded. 


	4. Go

Well, only a little afterplay, to round it up:-) thanks for the reviews if there are any. Is Fanfiction only being lousy to me, or is it a problem for all?!

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Remus Lupin looked flabbergasted when he met the Professors Snape and Potter on his way to Hogsmeade. They were quite close together and talking animatedly. Until they saw him coming. Then stopped all conversation and they seemed to tear apart from each other. That was really, really interesting, Lupin thought. Those two together, in any way other than at each other's throat, was something nobody could have thought of.

Harry looked a bit flushed, thought Remus. It became him, even if he seemed to be ashamed of it. Severus glared as was usual, but Lupin smelled something like – well what? He couldn't make it out exactly. He had to get closer. 

"Severus, Harry", he felt quite strange to put these two names together in one address.

Black eyes flashed at him, to which he was used, but the green eyes did the same. "Lupin", said Snape in a clipped tone. "Hello Remus", Harry was only a little more welcoming. 

Remus Lupin looked from one man to the other. He wouldn't ask, no he wouldn't. But what for the love of Merlin were they wearing? Identical scarves, which were neither Gryffindor nor Slytherin. What on earth could that mean?

He looked really really puzzled and he knew it. It didn't vex him much, but he wanted to know. Harry was the godson of his mate, he had a right to know. Remus smiled at his own display of hypocrisy. Well, he was curious after all, what was wrong with that? The history of those two made it highly improbable that you would meet them on a Sunday afternoon, walking together as closely as that, talking in a way which seemed amiable enough, at least from afar.

A strange noise. Remus looked around for the source. Must have been Severus, laughing, even if that seemed completely weird.

"You look like a complete idiot, Lupin", the poisoned honey voice said. Well, that was more like what was to be expected. "So typically Gryffindor of you, being that nosy and showing it."

"I didn't say a thing", Remus Lupin protested. 

Harry snorted which made Remus' head spin. Since when did Harry do that? "You don't have to, Remus, really, you look a big question mark."

"Well then", Remus tried not to think of his dignity and face colour. Werewolves didn't blush, it was physically impossible.

"Care to enlighten me, lest I die of heart failure, when I think about just what this might mean?"

The eyebrow which Severus had used even in school 30 years back, to intimidate everyone, went up. "This, Lupin? What exactly is it that you are asking of Professor Potter and me?"

There was a strange feeling in the air. Might have been the air, might have been the sudden shockwave of ideas, of recollections, of whatevers in the heads of the three persons standing still on Hogwarts grounds. 

Harry looked at his dark companion with an air Remus couldn't make out completely. It was near enough his usual calm, enduring, yet underneath exasperated air. Yet there was something else. A strange familiarity. Remus gulped.

"Well, let's begin with these scarves you are wearing. Not your usual colour, Severus, is it?"

Harry gave that irritating snort again which earned him a dark glare of Snape. Remus felt good with that. Some things never changed. 

Some did. That strange noise which must be the laugh of Severus reached his ear. Remus Lupin shook his head again, wondering. That was very very strange, something was not quite right. And he was going to learn just what it was.

"Would you believe it if I said I was ready for a change?", asked the honey-coated voice of the Potions master. Remus Lupin's face nearly hit the floor. Well, everybody could change, certainly, but Severus?

His mouth really fell open when he saw Harry nudging Severus in a way a wife would a husband of some years who had said something extremely stupid in front of others. His eyes went into the opposite direction, as did his eyebrows.

Husband? Wife?

Harry? Severus? 

He must be roaring screaming mad.

Then again: The Potions master didn't draw his wand and strike his formerly hated student with an extremely vicious curse. He only rose that eyebrow and gave the offender his most deadly stare. Who tired to hold the gaze and then broke into giggles. The eyebrows of the Defence against the dark Arts Teacher and dark creature in one nearly hit his hairline. And that was not as low as it used to be. Surely Severus would do something extremely unpleasant now?

No, he didn't. He just deepened the glare for a second before returning the shine of his dark gaze to Lupin. "You must excuse our young colleague, but he seems to be exceedingly childish, even for him, after our little pastime."

Severus Snape excusing Harry Potter must be a first, Remus thought, but Severus Snape talking about pastimes with Harry Potter was – unthinkable.

"Pastime?", he managed to force that strange word out of his mouth. "Anything to do with those scarves?" To hell with his dignity if ever he had one. Werewolves weren't especially known for dignity. Curiosity killed the cat, but that didn't apply to canines.

"Actually, yes", said Severus who seemed to enjoy the situation more and more. Well as much as you could talk of Severus enjoying anything, which was a contradiction in terms. But then why not? He had always been famous for liking to play Gryffindors like a harp. 

Remus Lupin thought longingly and not for the first time of throttling this long slender creamy white neck now covered with a blue and white woollen abomination. He decided to change his approach. "You seem to be completely healed, Severus. Took care of yourself, did you? That was a really nasty cold you had."

Both dark-haired men exchanged a glance that seemed to express amusement. It was infuriating and Remus was happy that Sirius wasn't here to experience this strange situation. He would have killed Snape by now, that much was sure. 

Harry seemed to sense the fury in the normally calm man and took mercy on him, tender-hearted Gryffindor he was after all, might the company he was keeping lately have rubbed off on him or not. "We've been to a game of soccer."

"You were what?" Remus Lupin must have got that wrong. His gaze wandered from Harry to Severus and back. Well, that explained the scarves, but how on earth had Harry got Severus to go there? And why would he? He shook his head. Obviously getting one question answered only left him with more to wonder about. That must be meaning something, he thought, but he would be damned if he knew what.

The return of the eyebrow. "You added deafness to your many mishaps, Lupin? Professor Potter spoke completely discernible, in straight and easy words, for once. What is there not to understand?"

Remus had the distinct feeling his eyes were rolling in the same motion his brain was performing. "Everything. And please don't call him Professor Potter, it gets on my nerves."

A smirk. "Professor Potter made it quite clear to me just lately that that is the way he wants to be addressed by me. Why shouldn't I cater to his wishes?"

Indeed. "Well, why would you?" Remus Lupin couldn't believe this conversation was really happening. Severus showed him an exceedingly infuriating innocent face. "I always try to accommodate new teachers as much as I can. For some I even prepared and still do prepare one of the most challenging potions known to the wizard world. Not that I expect to be thanked for it. So why shouldn't I fulfil a wish so small if a little childish and immature if it makes a- colleague – feel more at ease at his new task?"

Remus saw that Harry's eyes had clung to the face of the Potions master as well as his own. He seemed to have difficulty taking them away, as it was. Not that he himself was far better off. To see this new Severus was really – haunting. He had a very strange feeling. A feeling that Harry Potter was just about to press these lips he was unconsciously licking onto those of the Potions master, clamped together as usual after his speech, and was deterred from doing so just by a flicker in the dark eyes and a minuscule movement of the head, barely visible to someone without the heightened sense of awareness the werewolf had to thank his condition for. Strangest of all was possibly the fact that the thought didn't strike him as completely outrageous, idiotic or otherwise foolish, simply as strange.

The moon must be coming soon this month, thought Lupin. Or how else was he to explain that this perception, of lips wanting to meet other lips, and the owner of the lips in question just reminding the owner of the first pair that they were not alone, and not flaring him alive for just the idea, did seem to be the answer to all the questions that had lately arisen in his mind. Questions out of things slightly off. Things which aroused his curiosity and brought him here, standing like an idiot looking at two men he thought he knew. And who looked at him in precisely the way he would have thought they'd do under the circumstances.

"Ah, yes", was all Remus was able to utter. He looked at the two smirking faces and away. He gave in. He had not the slightest. He longed to see Dumbledore about this. He had a feeling he would turn mad if he didn't. But just now he had an all-consuming need for alcohol. Fast and lots of it. No alcohol never was a solution.

He waved his hand, trying his best to not look on the two other men again. The stars might fall down if he did. "I'm off to Hogsmeade", he mumbled. "See you two soon". He shrugged his shoulders at his last sentence and turned without his usual friendly smile. He seemed to be in rather a hurry.

The men with the scarves watched the retreating figure of the Defence against the dark Arts teacher as long as it was to be seen. When it was around the corner they turned to face each other. Dark eyes in a face not showing any emotion glared. Green eyes in a face showing too many emotions sparked a fire. 

"You really are bad", said Harry with some conviction. "I never saw Remus run like that". 

"Serves him right for being that nosy", said Severus with equal conviction. "You were not too good, either, if I recall correctly". 

"Nosy is rich, coming from you", said Harry, holding the dark gaze of the man. Which now deepened and a hand came out to grab Harry's arm faster than he could say "harassment". 

"Come", the dark velvet voice growled in a manner that was entirely too seducing for Harry not to shiver all over. He looked around. 

"Here?", he asked, not entirely hostile to the idea. "Remember your age and health status, Professor. It might get you a cold again, to get one or both of us off in the field". 

The hand grabbed even harder, definitely leaving bruises. "How endearing of you to remind me, Potter. I recall quite clearly that it was you who brought me into that undignified position in the first place and therefore have to take the blame for my cold".

Harry raised an eyebrow, although he felt his body react to the sheer mentioning of the event in question. Gods, to get that hard only thinking of the things Severus could do ... "I only flew us to that forlorn field after the Quidditch match because I had the – impression that you wanted to talk to me in private. You surly felt like you would from behind".

Another dark glare. "And you were all so willing to cooperate, if I recall that right."

Well, Harry couldn't exactly say anything against that, not with the man brushing oh so inconspicuously against him and feeling all to well how Harry reacted to his talk alone.

"Well yes, but I was not exactly the one who lost that bet, was I?"

"Idiotic little bet as it was", growled Snape, his fingers digging into Harry's hip quite hurtfully. 

"I wouldn't contradict that", Harry said as cheerfully as he could with his throat constricting. "But you didn't seem to mind then."

"And so you won".

"And so I won". 

Harry gulped under the dark gaze and the grip. He grabbed a handful of dark hair and pulled the face of the other man near. "Not again, Professor Snape. I will not take advantage of your age again. Your rooms, now." And with that Harry took hold of the hand of the older wizard and ran for the castle.

- _The end _–

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That is of course not really the end. I have something nagging me to write about the incident that started this. Well, see you then, when it decides to come out:-)


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